TREAD lightly, she is near Under the snow, Speak gently, she can hear The daisies grow. All her bright golden hair Tarnished with rust, She that was young and fair Fallen to dust. Lily-like, white as snow, She hardly knew She was a woman, so Sweetly she grew. Coffin-board, heavy stone, Lie on her breast, I vex my heart alone She is at rest. Peace, Peace, she cannot hear Lyre or sonnet, All my life's buried here, Heap earth upon it. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: THE VILLAGE ATHEIST by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE WORN WEDDING-RING by WILLIAM COX BENNETT MY LOVE by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL EASTER DAY [IN ROME] by OSCAR WILDE SONNET WRITTEN IN THE FALL OF 1914: 2 by GEORGE EDWARD WOODBERRY TO L.E.L. ON THE DEATH OF FELICIA HEMANS by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |